


With The Chance We've Been Given

by evilqueenofgallifrey (MayFairy)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, F/M, Film Verse, Post-Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/pseuds/evilqueenofgallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It takes a whole month for Effie Trinket to come knocking on his door. But when he opens the door to a woman with a short fuzz of blonde hair, minimal makeup and a very colourful but unembellished dress, he is absolutely lost for words."</p><p>Effie finally comes back to Twelve, and moves in with Haymitch without really asking. Even though he knows it will never make a lot of sense, he's glad to see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With The Chance We've Been Given

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on two tumblr prompts I received, one being for post-Mockingjay Hayffie stuff, and another one being this:
> 
> "I don't know why, but I really want a classic make-over type thing where Effie finally gets a chance to make Haymitch properly presentable ;) (if you've seen the Legally Blonde musical, basically I just want Chip on My Shoulder but with Effie and Haymitch lol)"
> 
> I'm not sure if I'd call it a makeover, but hopefully it works. It could be seen as a sequel to my other oneshot, In The Dark With You, but it does stand alone.

_This chip on my shoulder_

_Makes me smarter and bolder_

_No more whining or blaming_

_I am reclaiming my pride_

_**Chip On My Shoulder - Legally Blonde** _

* * *

 

It takes a whole month for Effie Trinket to come knocking on his door.

He knows it's her from the quick, musical way she knocks - a small detail he memorised years ago and used to despise but now considers oddly endearing. When he goes to answer, he prepares to make some snarky comment about how long she's taken, or perhaps something less kind that would make it seem like he hasn't been all but sitting in his lounge waiting for her to turn up.

But when he opens the door to a woman with a short fuzz of blonde hair, minimal makeup and a very colourful but unembellished dress, he is absolutely lost for words.

Effie frowns at him. "Close your mouth, you look like a goldfish."

That snaps him out of it. Partly. "You look…"  _Beautiful_. "Different."

She sniffs, and pushes past him into the house with as much disregard for what he might want as ever. "Well, the economy's hardly what it used to be, and  _someone_ destroyed my job market. Adjustments had to be made."

"That's your real hair," he says dumbly, unable to stop staring at it. He knew that she had always shaved her head for the sake of her wigs, but had never seen her bare or natural head before.

Her lips tighten. "Yes, I know. No need to dwell on it."

All Haymitch can think about is running his fingers through it, wondering whether it would be soft under his fingertips. He also needs to know if he's imagining the hint of a curl at the ends, but given that it's only about an inch long, he's fairly sure he is.

That's when he finally notices something else. "You have a suitcase."

One fine eyebrow goes up. "Well, I was hardly going to come here without my things, was I? This isn't going to be a one day job."

He's not remotely sure what she's talking about, but it sounds like she's staying, and that makes him far happier than he would ever admit. Because it's insane and a few years ago the prospect of Effie Trinket hanging around his house for an undetermined period of time would have been one of the worst scenarios imaginable, but now it's almost the opposite.

Her eyes narrow in on him, scrutinising. "When was the last time you showered?" Her nose is wrinkled and he glances down at himself only to vaguely recall that he couldn't remember the last time he had changed his clothes, or showered, and that there is dried vomit on his shirt.

Sure, the rebellion is over and they had won, but it has only made a safer place for him to be haunted by the same demons and a few new ones as well. So he'd returned to his house with new liquor and not really stopped drinking since.

Now that he thinks about it, it's probably half a miracle he isn't dead, and he likely has Katniss and Peeta to thank for occasionally pulling him out of pools of his own vomit or briefly stealing his alcohol.

His lack of answer serves as one, and Effie rolls her eyes.

"Alright, first order of business, shower,  _now_ ," she says firmly, and before he can protest she is pushing him down the hallway to the bathroom. He doesn't find the energy to fight her until they get in there and she starts taking his filthy clothes off.

"Hey! What are you-"

"Oh, as if I haven't seen you naked before," she snaps, and he thinks that it's probably the first time either of them have admitted to any kind of intimate relationship between them aloud. Even if until very recently it had just been sex.

He's not at all sure what it has changed into, only that it is undeniably something  _more_.

When his clothes are all on the floor, she shoves him into the shower and barks at him to use a large amount of shampoo and soap before she's gingerly picking up his clothes and leaving the room without bothering to shut the door behind her.

He has to admit, the hot water feels fantastic. Now that he's realised how dirty and pungent he was, getting clean is actually very pleasant. He scrubs everywhere and then washes his hair, all the while thinking about the fact that Effie was actually, finally here.

It's ridiculous, but he's missed her a lot.

After all, where's the fun in life without an annoying control freak getting on his nerves and keeping things interesting?

Haymitch gets out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before heading to his bedroom for clothes. Effie is in there, tidying while humming to herself as if there is no reason she shouldn't be doing exactly that.

He coughs, making her turn around.

"Oh, good," she says, almost absently, "Well, go on, you know where your clothes are. I've taken out the ones that need a wash."

Sure enough, he goes to his wardrobe and finds half of the contents absent, but he pays it no mind and just grabs a pair of pants and a shirt without caring which ones they are.

He catches Effie staring at him, and he realises her eyes are on his chest and the low riding towel. While his nudity may have not affected her before, her slightly darkened eyes are rather focused on him now.

"See something you like, Princess?" He asks, smirking, and her face just flushes. She turns away and goes back to tidying, pointedly ignoring him.

He drops the towel and gets dressed right there, and is a bit disappointed when she doesn't try to sneak a look even once. Still, her looking away from him gives him a chance to creep up behind her and touch her hair.

It's unspeakably soft, but he is only able to enjoy the sensation for all of a second before she jumps and whips around.

"What are you doing?!"

"Can't blame a guy for being curious, Eff," he says, shrugging.

She scowls at him and puts her hands on her hips, and Haymitch can only think how fond he is of this look and stance of hers, having seen it a hundred times before. Not that it isn't different this time, with her more understated appearance and the war and the Capitol mostly behind them, but still.

So much is different, and that makes it all the better that some things are still the same.

This is why he ends up just grinning at her like an idiot, which of course only serves to make her more annoyed, and he doesn't try to stop her when she pushes past him, likely to find a different area of the house to tidy.

He follows her to the kitchen where she immediately gets to work on the dishes while he just sits down at the table and pours himself a new glass of whiskey.

"What are you doing, Princess?"

"I need a conductive working environment," she says without turning around.

He laughs. "A what?"

"If I'm going to get  _you_ cleaned up, Haymitch Abernathy, your house has to come first. I can't possibly get you sorted out when everything around you is a shambles, now can I?"

Haymitch snorts into his whiskey as he takes another gulp. "So, what, you're here to fix me?"

"I told you in that bunker in Thirteen that if we made it out alive, someone would have to stop you from drinking yourself into an early grave."

"And you still think that someone is going to be you?"

"I have the most practice."

He can't really argue with that. "So, what, you're moving in?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Not particularly."

* * *

 

It takes Effie two days to get the house up to a standard she is content with. Haymitch isn't accustomed to everything not having a layer of dust, or his face shining out at him from polished surfaces, but he can't exactly deny that it's a massive improvement.

Well, with one downside. Now the thing she is intent on cleaning up is  _him_. Which is how he finds himself in a chair in the kitchen with her standing behind him, scissors in her hands.

If any person other than Effie tried to come near him with any kind of sharp object, his paranoid instincts leftover from the Arena would have kicked in and he would have thrown them across the room. But Effie had made her intentions clear multiple times before even picking them up, let alone coming near him.

It's strange to realise that she's become the person he trusts the most. He barely flinches when the cold metal of the scissors brushes his skin. She only gives his hair a trim, taking an inch off at most and focusing more on making it neater.

The cutthroat razor makes him more nervous when she picks it up, but she is gentle and precise as she leans over him and again only trims. He is left with light stubble instead of the beard that had been growing out.

"There," she remarks, satisfied, putting the razor back on the dining table. "Much better."

Her fingers brush across his jaw, dispelling any loose hairs. He catches her hand and she goes still, watching and waiting as he turns it over between his own.

"It's good to see you, Eff," he says gruffly, and the smallest of smiles makes her lips twitch.

"Come on, I'm not done yet." She pulls on her hand and takes him to his bedroom, where she picks out a dress shirt and pants along with a nice waistcoat and tie.

"Oh hell no, Effie. We're not in the Capitol anymore, there's no point to this shit."

Effie just ignores him and lays the clothes out on the bed. "Put them on and then call for me." When he continues to frown, something shifts in her face. "Please, Haymitch."

It's the please that gets him, and he mutters an agreement. She beams and flits out of the room, leaving him to grudgingly pull on the clothes. It's been awhile since he's had to wear anything like this, and he had forgotten how much he  _hates_ tying ties. Not that it matters because Effie will only tut over it and redo the knot anyway.

Once he's dressed, he calls for her, and she returns wearing a dress that would still be considered tame by Capitol standards but is probably the fanciest one she's brought with her. She's also wearing more makeup, including a shade of dark pink lipstick.

"Come here then," she says, and he takes a few steps forward so that she can adjust his clothing so that it's perfect. Sure enough, she does tut and redo the tie.

Finally, she turns him to face the full length mirror and comes to stand next to him. Even without her wig, for a moment Haymitch could believe they are back in the Capitol, and he's not sure if the thought is comforting or horrific. But the look on Effie's face, the bittersweet contentment and the longing, helps him understand. She's only ever wanted things to be beautiful.

"I just wanted to see," she whispers, giving their reflections a tiny, brave smile, "One last time. Look how handsome you look."

He smiles back, just a fraction, before saying the thing he knows she needs to hear. "You look beautiful, Eff."

"Do you think so?"

"You always look beautiful, but even more without all this," he says honestly, turning away from the mirror to meet her eyes instead. His thumb comes up to trace over her tinted lips. "You don't have to paint yourself here. I know you don't believe that but it's the truth."

Her eyes flicker shut. "I know," she murmurs, "Or,  _perhaps_  I do, sometimes."

Haymitch leans in to kiss her on the forehead. "It's just me, Eff. No need to try and impress  _me_. Of all damn people."

"No, I suppose not," Effie says, though it's impossible to tell if she believes her own words. "I still want the dresses, though."

He has to chuckle. "You can keep the dresses, Princess. I'm not trying to say you should throw them out. But there's nothing wrong with trying something more local either."

With that, he leaves the bedroom in search of alcohol. To his annoyance, all of his usual places are barren and he knows that he should have known she would flush it all as part of her clean up of both him and the house.

Of course, she doesn't know all of his hiding spots, and he retrieves the old bottle of scotch from behind some books on the bookcase before settling in his favourite armchair with it.

Effie comes in about half an hour later. She is wearing a plain dress, her face scrubbed clean and is, most peculiarly, barefoot. Haymitch has never seen her look more raw, or more human, than right now, in the uncertain way she steps into the room and meets his eyes.

He wants to tell her that she looks beautiful, so much more genuinely than before, but it doesn't quite come out. Thankfully, his stare seems to convey exactly what he is thinking, because her cheeks flush pink. It's a delightful sight since in the past such things were hidden under her thick powder.

Her eyes go to the bottle of scotch on the end table next to him, and narrow slightly, but he doesn't give her a chance to comment on it.

"Come 'ere," he says quietly, and she obeys, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor before coming to a stop in front of him.

His hands come up to rest on her hips, and his eyes lift to see hers intent and dark as they watch him.

"Thank you," he murmurs, meaning for everything she's ever done for the kids, for the rebellion, and especially for him.

"You're very welcome," Effie whispers back, and he wastes no time in pulling her down so that she is in his lap, her legs either side of his hips and her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

His hands cradle her head, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of her short hair. Then he kisses her, more gently than he ever has before but with more passion than he can ever remember feeling. She lets out a breathy sigh against his lips and he decides then and there that it's his new favourite sound.

His kisses move along her jaw, one of his hands still cradling her cheek while the other yanks her body more firmly against his. Her fingers are in his hair at the nape of his neck and her hips roll against him in a way that makes him groan into the skin of her neck.

"I've missed you," he whispers, his hands clutching at her anywhere he can reach.

Effie kisses him, sweetly. "Good, because against my better judgement I've rather missed you too."

Her second kiss is less sweet, and more hungry, and it isn't long before her dress is over her head and on the floor and his waistcoat is being unbuttoned. She no longer tastes like Capitol lipstick and perfume. She tastes like a real person. Like a second chance.

Like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


End file.
